


Breaking Rules

by Apollo_Xandos



Category: Alexander (2004), Alexander Trilogy - Mary Renault, Alexander the Great historical, Classical Greece and Rome History & Literature RPF, Historical RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-15 11:30:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17527904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apollo_Xandos/pseuds/Apollo_Xandos
Summary: In the weeks after the battle of Issos, Alexander and Hephaistion finally breach the ultimate taboo. Alexander's POV. #1 of the Phoenician Trilogy.





	1. In the Bath

**Author's Note:**

> Purely historical erotica. I wanted to look at ancient attitudes about sex and power. This is graphic, but not rough. It's frank sex between two guys who know and love each other well. It takes place after Issos—so Alexander has Darius’s big-ass tent—but before the surrender of Sidon or the siege of Tyre. Alexander isn’t king of the world yet. This isn’t based on any fictional universe (Stone, Renault, or anybody else). Jared Leto is not my mental Hephaistion. If you want to see someone closer to what I had in mind: https://i-h2.pinimg.com/564x/b6/75/66/b675668c2732bddaa54cdde9a71fc2cb.jpg

“Don’t tell me there’s a fucking emergency.”

He didn’t need to look to know who’d come sauntering into the bathing chamber with a rattle of hooks sliding on brass as the curtain was pushed aside. Only one man in the army would do that without a by-your-leave.

“No emergency unless it’s that the water is cooling before I get any time in it. Move over.”

Alexander chuckled but obeyed as he heard the slither of a buckle being undone, then the clump of sword, scabbard, and chest belt on tent carpet. He was tempted to turn to watch his friend disrobe but decided just to enjoy the sounds and imagine. Soft rasp of a wool cloak unclipped and tossed aside, _chiton_ following it to bare a long torso illumined by the lamps high on stands and flickering in the steam. He knew that body well and didn’t need to see it to _see_ it, the bird arch of clavicles, the dip of sternum between powerful pecs, a line of hair down his muscled belly past his navel to a black bush around heavy genitals in the bowl of his pelvis.

One leg stepped over the edge of the huge tub, then the other came down and the rest of Hephaistion followed, plopping into the water. He made waves. “Still warm.” He sighed and stretched out arms along the tub edge, yellow lamplight gilding olive skin that covered elongated, ropey muscles and prominent veins. “Even in the Levant, it’s cold as a Fury’s tit at night in autumn.”

“I thought you were coming to dinner earlier?”

“Got put on rounds; Gallestas apparently drank too much last night and spent all day puking his guts out. I got pulled in to sub.”

“Fucking idiot; I hope he’s getting disciplined.”

“He’s got three nights’ duty in a row, no break but sleep and drill.”

Alexander nodded and leaned his head back against the tub edge. “Good enough.” He avoided intervening in the regular running of army units unless there was due cause. Officers commanded better when the king didn’t micromanage.

Hephaistion was a member of the king’s own Hypaspists, the _agema_ squad--his personal infantry guard in battle, the most prestigious unit in the army after the Companion _agema_ , which the king himself commanded. The _agema_ of the Hypaspists was one place the sons of upper-class Companions landed after being Pages. It had been as a Page that Alexander had first met Hephaistion. Alexander’s father, Philip, had picked him, along with several others, to be Companions of the prince, probably for his family’s money and his looks. Philip had always had a good eye for pretty boys. Yet neither money nor looks underlay Alexander’s fondness for him.

Alexander liked a man with brains and an educated opinion, somebody who could keep up with him intellectually and wasn’t afraid to push back when he disagreed.

In short, Hephaistion was willing to tell Alexander when he was being an idiot, which had got him into a prince’s bed, and had kept him in a king’s. To be utterly honest, though, Alexander did enjoy the pretty, and studied him now from under lowered lids. He was rinsing his hair and oiling the coarse curls. He’d grown it out a bit for winter so it brushed the nape of his neck. He had a winter beard, too; he said it kept his face warm. It took a lot more than cold weather to make Alexander give up his razor.

Shifting abruptly, Alexander leaned forward to grip Hephaistion’s hair, tilting his head up, kissing him. Water ran down Hephaistion’s face into both their mouths. “You’re going to fucking drown me!” But that didn’t stop Hephaistion from kissing back. Hard.

Hands gripped shoulders and Hephaistion sucked on Alexander’s lower lip, then bit it. “Ow,” Alexander said, pulling away. “What shit was that?”

“You yanked my hair.”

“Is that how this is going?” Alexander pounced and water sloshed as they wrestled, laughing. It was an excuse to get wet bodies close, though Alexander had, ironically, put himself at a disadvantage by being above. Hephaistion was bigger, limbs longer. He caught the king in a firm grip, wrapping arms and legs around him, holding him still.

“Most of the blasted water is now on the carpet,” Hephaistion said. It was an exaggeration. Only a third of the water was on the carpet. More importantly, Hephaistion’s cock was hard against Alexander’s ass. Alexander ground down on him a little.

“Oh, shit,” Hephaistion groaned, eyes closing, which made Alexander grin. “Are you going to do something about that?”

“What do you want me to do?”

Hephaistion’s eyes opened. They were as dark as his hair. This was new territory. They’d only started this twist a few months back, during the siege of Halikarnassos. Alexander’s frustration had needed an outlet. Hephaistion had offered.

Their fucking as boys had been conventional. Hephaistion was older, if not by much, so Alexander had bottomed as a matter of course. When he’d become king, that had ceased. Kings didn’t take it up the ass. Yet for Hephaistion to assume such a role was a humiliation, so they’d resorted to other means. There were plenty of creases on a human body, in addition to hands.

Until Halikarnassos. One night, everything had flipped. “Nobody knows what we’re doing in here,” Hephaistion had said. Alexander routinely sent even the Bodyguards, the Somatophylakes, out from the inner chamber, for privacy. “I want you in me.”

So Alexander had fucked him, and both had come hard.

The next night, Hephaistion had fucked Alexander, to the same result.

They’d thrown out the rules. It had been weirdly freeing, and who in Hades cared what the soldiers gossiped. And they did gossip, as bad as women at a city fountain.

Tonight, it was Alexander’s turn to straddle Hephaistion’s lap. “I’m clean.”

“You’re in the bath, of course you’re clean.”

“You know what I meant. I’m clean inside.”

Laughing against Alexander’s mouth, Hephaistion’s free hand moved down to cup Alexander’s balls, forefinger moving along the little ridge of skin back to his anus, pushing just the fingertip inside. Alexander slid back on it until the whole finger was in, brushing the walnut on the anterior wall. “Ohhhh, fuuuuck.”

Hephaistion moved his finger back and forth, mouth at Alexander’s throat, sucking absently. After a moment, he whispered, “We should get out. Water’s getting cold anyway.”

“I’m fine.”

“Alekos…We’ve never done it this way without oil. I don’t want to hurt you; that’s not fun for me.”

This was said with embarrassment. Hephaistion was large. Not abnormal, but large. When they’d been younger, he’d been shy in the sandpit because the other boys had stared; it was a fault in his otherwise flawless form. Alexander was more properly petite in that respect.

Just now, Alexander wasn’t petite. He rubbed himself to full hardness while Hephaistion’s mouth fastened on a nipple, tongue playing the pebble nub as a second finger joined the first inside Alexander’s ass, stretching gently and massaging the muscle. “Oh, gods!” This was _exquisite_ , not dishonoring, not if it was sought and wanted. Alexander had enjoyed it as a boy, rejected it as a king, then remembered the truth as a conqueror.

He was in charge here. And he intended to let Hephaistion know it.

Hephaistion added a third finger and Alexander had dropped his head back, panting. “In now,” he ordered.

Hephaistion slouched in the tub to line up their bodies, his hands adjusting Alexander’s hips. They liked doing this face-to-face, and not just to make kissing easier. For Alexander, the best part was watching his friend’s expression when he spilled. “We should have oil,” Hephaistion said again.

“Stop worrying. It’d only dissipate in the water.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Just go slow.”

“You go slow. I’ll let you direct this play.”

He would have anyway. Hands on Hephaistion’s shoulders, Alexander took him in increments. It appeared to be a pleasant torture for Hephaistion, whose eyes had squeezed shut. For Alexander, it was intense, just this side of painful. Whatever his platitudes, water wasn’t oil and they hadn’t done this bare since the first few times, when they’d been young and ignorant. Even with oil, they were careful. The one time they hadn’t been—both too drunk, frankly—Alexander had pounded his friend so hard, Hephaistion had wound up fissured and unable to ride for two days. Alexander had felt horrible even if the sex itself had been mind-blowing at the time for both of them. The aftermath hadn’t been worth it, and they’d been careful ever since.

Until tonight. Tonight, Alexander just wanted the stretching friction on his sphincter, the press of Hephaistion’s hard cock on his walnut. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Alexander muttered. “You feel amazing. Don’t move. Let me adjust.”

Hephaistion obeyed, rubbing Alexander’s back and kissing his shoulder, the base of his neck. “I’m not going to last long,” he admitted. “This angle is too good.”

After a dozen breaths, Alexander began to move, controlling the motion: more rocking than thrusting. Hephaistion’s lips were tight, eyes squeezed shut, his fingers on Alexander’s hips digging in hard. Bending, Alexander kissed him, tongue sliding along tongue, intensifying the feeling of cock in ass. “A little faster?” Hephaistion begged. Alexander complied, his own cock pressed up against Hephaistion’s belly. He wiggled his hand between to stroke it. “Let me do that,” Hephaistion said, dark eyes opening finally to look down and find his goal.

“Mmm,” Alexander replied as the long fingers pushed his own aside. Pleasure in one place helped ease discomfort in another, and Hephaistion was hitting his sweet spot, too, which almost made Alexander not care about anything else.

At least until Hephaistion finished. He lost his focus and pushed into Alexander hard the final few times, making the king bite his lip to keep from grunting in pain. “Sorry,” Hephaistion muttered, flushed face pressed to Alexander’s neck. The beard scratched.

“S’all right. It was my choice to do it this way.” Alexander lifted himself off, very slowly, then turned so he could lean his back against his friend’s chest. Hephaistion returned to work with both hands, one on his cock, the other gently fondling his balls. With that sort of concentrated attention, it didn’t take Alexander long, although his orgasm wasn’t powerful as his ass still ached. Finished, he moved out of his friend’s embrace, turning so he could see him. Lifting a hand, he ran the back of it along Hephaistion’s cheek. “Do you want me to shave you?”

Hephaistion grinned. “Is that a subtle way of telling me to get rid of the beard? I just got started on it; winter’s coming.”

“That’s an excuse. You’re lazy.”

“I’m not lazy, I’m impatient. You spend as much time on your toilet as a damn woman.”

Insulted, Alexander withdrew his hand. “I do not.”

Hephaistion just laughed, then pushed Alexander back a little and rose up on his knees. Water cascaded down his body as he looked around for where the servants had put the towels, and Alexander was suddenly eye-to-penis. For just a moment, a crazy impulse made him want to lean forward and take it in his mouth, feel it harden against his tongue, kiss his lover all over, even that part which embarrassed Hephaistion the most.

Shocked by what had just run through his head, he pushed himself up hastily and accepted the towel Hephaistion gave him. They climbed out and dried off, then went into the bedchamber beyond. In the middle, sat Darius’s gigantic bed—Alexander’s bed, now. His new Persian servants had left honeyed treats and wine. And two cups on a table.

It seemed his Persians were no more ignorant of how many people slept here than the Somatophylakes. Alexander put off embarrassment, though he knew it was harder for his friend. Hephaistion suffered camp gossip more than Alexander because the soldiers assumed it was Alexander’s cock in Hephaistion’s ass, not the reverse, and Hephaistion was too old for it. Alexander suspected at least some of his Somatophylakes knew the truth, but they’d been witness to his father’s many debaucheries. His own were boring in comparison. He’d had one lover and only one since he’d been fifteen years old, not counting the occasional hetaira, mostly to prove he could manage with a woman, assuring the succession. He’d found a gracious reason to get rid of the various girls quickly. It wasn’t their fault he preferred a stiff gamecock to pink piglet. The Somatophyakes seemed to respect his loyalty, even if not all the soldiers did. Alexander shielded Hephaistion from speculation as much as possible. Officially, Hephaistion shared a tent with three others in his unit. In truth, he never slept there and Alexander was pretty sure most of the camp knew it.

But publicly, everyone played along. Sometimes, he wondered what his friend suffered when the king wasn’t around, but Hephaistion didn’t say, and Alexander refrained from asking. He had his own sources, and if he ever learned that Hephaistion was truly suffering, he’d do something about it. Otherwise, it was better not to intercede or Hephaistion would only suffer worse.


	2. The Vulgar and the Pure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a brief reference to the ugliness of a battlefield that some might find disturbing, but hey, you're reading a story about a world conqueror; it's not puppies and rainbows.

They fed each other date-and-sesame treats on the big bed, and if the servants had brought two cups, they used only one. Not to conceal anything, just for the fun of sharing. They hadn’t bothered to dress, even though it was chilly in the tent. Sheep-fleece covered the bed, cured hides from mountain herds somewhere far, far to the east, or so Alexander’s Persian servants had informed him. He wanted to find those sheep and send a flock back to Macedonia for breeding. He adored the long, smooth wool on bare flesh and liked even better the look of Hephaistion’s black curls and tanned limbs sprawled on pallid bright. Running a hand over his friend’s hipbone, he considered the contrast of ruddy fair skin against rich olive. “Why can’t I be dark and pretty like you?”

“Who’re you to talk, _Khrusion_?” Golden boy. “Your hair shines like gilded thread, or the sun itself.” Grinning, he reached out to slide fingers through it. “I look like any other Greek.”

“Not like any other Greek unless divine Apollo, Phaistonaki.”

“You’re mushy.”

“You’re one to talk? You started it. My hair is not gold; it’s washed-out blond and I’ve got freckles all over.”

Hephaistion grinned even wider, displaying big teeth. There was a charming little gap between the front two. “You do. Even on your ass.”

“There’s a lovely image.”

“What? I like your freckled ass—as I just proved in the tub.”

“Stop talking and roll your own ass over. I’ll give you a backrub.”

“That’s all?” Hephaistion waggled eyebrows and Alexander socked him playfully in the shoulder, then leaned in close, lifting Hephaistion’s jaw with a finger as if to kiss him, only to lick him from bearded chin up over lips, nose, and brow.

“Yuk!” Hephaistion yelled, but he was laughing.

It was a very old joke between them. Camel kisses. He couldn’t remember where it had started except long before they’d become lovers, the sort of silly nonsense boys engaged in.

Alexander pushed Hephaistion down. “On your belly.”

Hephaistion obeyed as Alexander retrieved an _aryballos_ , a perfume vial, from a bedside table. It held ointment tinctured with Lebanese cedarwood, sharp and musky. He poured out a palmful, a profligate waste of scent, but he wanted Hephaistion to smell warm like the gods. He spread this over his friend’s broad back, the skin smooth, no battle scars from this angle, working it in with strong fingers and hard palms over splayed shoulder blades, then down along his curved spine all the way to the dip of his lower back. Hephaistion lay quiescent, arms up, head turned left, eyes shut. Alexander worked the muscles in silence. Lamps on stands burned bright without much smoking, their jumping dance scattering brilliance in random patterns. Outside the heavy felt of tent walls, he could hear the muffled calls of the night watchword, or distant laughter and a victorious shout, perhaps from a winning bet at knucklebones. Far off, someone was singing.

After a while, Alexander rolled Hephaistion onto his back. His friend moved like wet sand, limp and fluid, his cock half erect. “Again?” Alexander laughed and Hephaistion blushed. Like the size of his prick, Hephaistion’s needs had always been greater. Alexander leaned above him, nose-to-nose. “I’m teasing. I like it that it takes nothing more than my hands on your back and you’re ready for two.”

“You could whisper my name some days and I’d be ready,” Hephaistion confessed, expression defenseless like a sacrifice on the altar.

Nobody could undo Alexander the way Hephaistion could, and he lowered his forehead to his friend’s full mouth. Hephaistion kissed the skin there. Alexander might be only twenty-four years old, but he was dead certain the man under him was the love of his life. If he marched as far as the Encircling Ocean, as long as Hephaistion marched with him, his heart would be home.

Sighing, he sat back, resting lightly on Hephaistion’s thighs to pour more cedar salve into the hollow of Hephaistion’s sternum, rubbing it over skin, fingers tracing scars from sword cuts, one quite long on his right bicep where some Persian had got in under his guard at Issos. It was healed, but still a shiny, livid red. Bending, Alexander kissed it. Hephaistion’s own hand touched Alexander’s thigh and the scar there from the same battle, rather worse; a spear had pierced not only skin but muscle. Weeks later, Alexander still walked with a slight limp. “Did the bath help the ache?” Hephaistion asked.

“Yes, though it’s been better lately. Twinges sometimes but not like it did.”

“Don’t get yourself killed, you reckless damn-fool,” Hephaistion said, voice between fondness and fear.

“I could say the same to you.”

“I’ll do my best. But I have to be brave for you. Worthy of a king.”

Alexander returned to kneading pecs and smoothing the long muscles atop broad shoulders. He wanted to say that fighting wasn’t what made Hephaistion worthy of a king, but it would come out wrong, as if he were dismissing his friend’s valor in the crush of combat. Finally, he said, “Remember, I need you to come back to me when the battle’s done. Don’t do anything stupid, like Patroklos.”

Hephaistion’s lips twitched. “I’ll leave any Hektors to Achilles.”

“Good.” He paused, then added, “Let’s not talk about war.”

They saw, and dealt, enough death. Alexander needed to forget things that were hard to forget, like a cloud of black flies on a dead man’s spilled intestines, a random, severed arm, or a skull cleaved half in two, one eye out of the socket—

 _Don’t think. Don’t think. Don’t think. Don’t remember. Just_ feel _._

He ran hands across Hephaistion’s abs in smooth sweeps, then moved up to circle brown nipples with his thumbs. Hephaistion’s cock, which had wilted, twitched in renewed interest. Dragging his right hand back down over diaphragm and stomach, he palmed Hephaistion’s shaft while continuing to circle a nipple. “Oh, gods,” Hephaistion muttered, hips arching. The cock head had peeked out of its retracted foreskin, leaking a single bead of slickness. Alexander caught it with the pad of his forefinger, rubbing it all around the blood-suffused glans which was red like Macedonian sweet cherries. Hephaistion hissed through his teeth. Fuck, he was beautiful, and Alexander was reminded of the unexpected compulsion earlier in the bath. What had made him think about taking Hephaistion’s cock in his mouth? And what made him think about it again now? No one would ask a free man to perform such an act, and no free man—never mind a king—should want to.

Yet he _did_ want to.

Why? Part of his mind—the analytical part that gave him no peace, the part that had to turn every problem over and over, peeling back the skin to scrutinize it—asked if by flirting with the shocking, with the underbelly of permissible, he could black out worse things? Shove the ugly out of mind by doing something uglier?

Yet it wasn’t _repulsion_ that excited him. He’d never been drawn to harshness or vulgar sex, and dirty talk turned him off like cold water. He’d once yelled at a slaver for bringing him a dozen pretty boys, thinking he might wish to purchase one or more. What kind of _kataratos_ —disgusting creature—had that man thought him? Love forced wasn’t love. He had everything he needed right here under his hands, everything pure.

And it was pure, what he wanted. Maybe he just had an upside-down way of conceptualizing it.

Hephaistion could be shy of his body because of the size of his penis. He’d confessed once or twice that he thought that part of him too big and unsightly. “I’m hung like a bedamned stallion,” he’d said. He wasn’t, but he probably felt that way in the _palaistra_ , and the only time he relaxed while naked was with Alexander, who he knew loved him. All of him.

And Alexander was going to prove it incontrovertibly.

Decided in mind, he put all his focus on the task at hand: loving Hephaistion.

Sliding his friend’s foreskin up over the cockhead, he gave a little twist, then back down. Up, twist, and down. Meanwhile, he used his other hand to stroke the shaft in the same rhythm. After almost a decade, he could play Hephaistion’s body like a lyre, and this was why he had little interest in anyone new. Familiar sex wasn’t boring. It was ease, and mastery, and tonight, he would add an additional skill.

“S’nice,” Hephaistion whispered, head back on the sheepskin. He was hard, but not rigid. After all, they’d already finished once. Alexander paused to let his thumb move back to the sensitive red glans, just brushing the opening. Hephaistion sucked in breath and the muscles of his belly tightened. Clear fluid leaked again. Would it taste sweet like cherry juice? Alexander had no idea.

“ _Agapete?_ ” My love.

“Yes?” Hephaistion’s voice was breathy.

“I’m going to break rules again.”

“What?” Hephaistion’s chin came down and he looked at Alexander, heavy brows together in a puzzled frown.

“Do you trust me?”

“What a stupid question. You know I do, or I wouldn’t be like _this_. It’s not exactly dignified.”

“You’re beautiful. A young Dionysos.”

“I notice you picked the girly god.”

“Phaistonaki, don’t.” Yet now that it had come to action, he hesitated—not something he often did.

He might be decided in his own mind, and yes, they’d already breached conventions. But what he was about to try was far more than just inverting who was fucking whom. Some would call it wholly depraved, one of Aristotle’s animal vices. Would Hephaistion understand, or be horrified and disgusted? Could Alexander risk alienating the man he loved best in the world?

Yet on the other hand, could he risk not trying to love him beyond any constraints?

Couldn’t they just _be_?

To complicate it further, he wasn’t sure how to do this. When he’d been a boy and curious about such things beyond watching horses or dogs mate, he’d sneaked into one of the palace _androns_ , or dining halls, to go through the dishes kept in a locked trunk. A lot were precious metal, silver mostly. Hence the lock. But some were painted pottery from Athens. They’d had all manner of naughty images intended to arouse men at the evening supper party or _symposion_ , or to arouse a curious boy before he’d even been able to spill.

Yet some images had upset him deeply. They didn’t show playfulness or satyr humor. One had depicted a woman, a prostitute given her short hair, lying on a table while one man entered her roughly from behind and another had a hand in her hair, forcing his prick into her mouth. The young Alexander had quickly put it back and had never looked at it again. After his father’s murder, he’d gone back to that chest— _his_ chest of dishes now—to remove the cup and smash it. He’d told no one why, even Hephaistion. And if he’d seen similar scenes on pottery since, none had shown anybody swallowing a cock willingly, not even satyrs, who would do anything.

So Hephaistion might not take this well, and Alexander still didn’t know how to proceed at a purely practical level. Yet his lover was watching him, curious, tangled curls a mess around his face. “Come over to the bed edge.”

Rising on hands and knees, Hephaistion crawled across sheepskin like a lion. The man was _moving sex_ and how had Alexander won _this_? Sometimes he feared Hephaistion loved him only because he was king, because the gods above knew he couldn’t compete in looks. Then he’d remember that if he suggested such a thing, Hephaistion would kick his ass for being stupid. They’d had this conversation. More than once. And both ways, actually; Hephaistion suffered his own insecurities. In the end, they had to trust each other. Maybe tonight could chisel that in stone.

In any case, Hephaistion had misunderstood and stretched out along the bedside lengthwise.

“No, no, put your legs over the edge.”

“What? Why?” But Hephaistion sat up to comply as Alexander rolled out of bed entirely, kneeling in front of him, glad Darius’s tent had thick Persian carpets. “What are you doing?” Hephaistion asked. Clearly, he had no idea what was coming because it wouldn’t even occur to him.

“Lay back and close your eyes.”

“All right,” Hephaistion agreed, half laughing. “This is getting weird.”

Alexander started with his feet, pulling each into his lap to massage gently. His hands were still slick from residual ointment. Hephaistion’s foot twitched a little, ticklish. “Why are you rubbing my _feet_? By Herakles, you’re the blasted _king_. You could do that on the bed, too. Get up here so I can get my hands on you.”

“You’re bossy to your king. And this will be easier.” Leaning above Hephaistion might have put him on top, but his neck wouldn’t thank him. And given the complete inappropriateness of what he was about to try, being on his knees made not a spit of difference.

He let his hands move up over narrow ankles, then hairy calves. Hephaistion had gone quiet, probably wondering where this was headed. Alexander’s palms slid over his bent knees up the insides of his thighs. Hephaistion’s cock jumped a little in response. Moving the knees apart, Alexander looked down his friend’s body as if out over a new vista. One arm was flung across Hephaistion’s eyes, the other stretched out, fingers clenched in wool. His diaphragm rose and fell, breath rapid and shallow. He must be nervous. Alexander wondered what he was thinking.

Leaning in, Alexander took Hephaistion’s cock in one hand while he kissed the olive skin of an inner thigh over downy hair. Hephaistion’s muscles tightened. “Alekos, stop teasing me. That tickles.”

‘Tickle’ wasn’t the effect Alexander had been trying for. Rising and leaning in, he licked the hollow of Hephaistion’s hip across his belly. Hephaistion’s hand, which had been gripping fleece, slid into Alexander’s hair. “It still tickles,” Hephaistion warned.

Alexander kissed back down the other hipbone. He’d been stroking Hephaistion’s cock the whole time, though it wasn’t as hard now. Hephaistion must still be nervous. Alexander lifted it a bit to blow over the length before running the flat of his tongue fast from base to tip.

Hephaistion’s reaction was instantaneous. Jerking upright, he yanked the king’s face away from his groin. “What the fuck are you _doing_?”


	3. Vulnerable

That hadn’t gone well, and Alexander’s soul shriveled.  Still, he spoke calmly, hoping his voice didn’t shake. “Breaking rules.”

“Shit, I’d say so! What on earth made you think I’d ever ask you to do such a thing? _I love you!_ ”

Hephaistion’s flushed expression appeared one part hot with desire, one part horrified, and this was exactly what Alexander had feared. Now what? He was caught between forward assault and retreat.

Retreat had never been his way.

“You didn’t ask. I’m offering.” Nervous, he glanced sideways and ran palms up and down the outside of Hephaistion’s thighs. “You don’t like that part of you. Your cock. I do—because it _is_ part of you. Maybe this is perverse, but I want to do it. If you’ll let me.” He could still feel Hephaistion’s hard stare, but the hand in his hair wasn’t pulling anymore. Neither spoke. Alexander continued rubbing the outside of Hephaistion’s thighs but couldn’t look at him, afraid of what he’d see in his lover’s face. He’d never felt so vulnerable in his life. “ _Parakalo_.” Please. It wasn’t a word he used much.

Another pause, then Hephaistion spoke. “Get up on the bed. I can’t bear the sight of you kneeling in front of me.”

Alexander grabbed at the truce, crawling up and letting Hephaistion embrace him, his head on Hephaistion’s shoulder. Alexander’s nerves were frayed worse than before Issos, a sick roiling in his middle. It was only Hephaistion’s rhythmic strokes on his back that anchored him. After a long while, Hephaistion spoke. “I don’t need you to do this because my cock’s ugly.”

“That’s not why I want to do it.”

“You just said it was.”

“No, I said I want to do this because I love all of you, even the parts you hate. I want to _kiss_ you all over.”

He looked up finally. Hephaistion’s expression was soft. “I never thought about it that way.”

“I didn’t either until tonight.”

“What made you think of it now?”

“Well, partly because, when you stood up in the bath earlier, your junk was right in my face.”

Hephaistion chuckled. “Sorry, I didn’t do that on purpose.”

“I know. Perils of being totally comfortable with each other. But I’m glad you did do it. I wanted to taste you. That … confused me.”

“I should think so!”

“No, Phaistonaki. I need you to understand—it confused me, surprised me, but it didn’t….” He trailed off, unsure what words he needed. Hephaistion kept stroking his back and shoulders with tense tenderness. Finally, he laid his head back down and stumbled on, “Like I said, I love every bit of you. I want to kiss every inch of you. Nothing about you is ugly to me. Even your big dick. Especially your big dick.” Reaching down, he gave it a fond brush; it was very flaccid. Under his cheek, his friend’s heart beat faster than normal, but there could be many reasons for that. At least Hephaistion hadn’t gotten up to stalk out in disgust.

“I just wanted a reason,” he said. “Aside from … everything else … it seems _unsanitary_ for the man who takes a bath every night when he can. I pee with that, and it gets all sweaty down there. Why would you want it in your mouth?”

Blunt Hephaistion. It startled a laugh out of Alexander. “If we hadn’t just been in the bath, I don’t think I would. But you smell like cedar now.”

Hephaistion didn’t reply, just continued to caress Alexander, who wasn’t sure where this was going. Hephaistion still hadn’t agreed to anything, even while he hadn’t outright refused, either. Alexander might have galloped headlong at Darius at Issos, but he was afraid to ask again, here, with the one who mattered most.

After a long while, Hephaistion stopped the petting and said, “Do what you want to do.”

“Don’t _submit_ to me.” Alexander felt ready to cry. “In this, I’m not your king.”

Hephaistion’s thumb touched the corner of one damp eye. “ _Agapete_ , I’m not submitting. I’m consenting. I’m just … uneasy. Do you want me to lie?”

“No.” Alexander pushed away entirely to sit up on the fleece, legs crossed, knees raised so his forearms rested on them. He felt small and humiliated, just as when, as a boy, his father had hit him for some lapse in discipline on his part. “I’ve revolted you.”

Hephaistion followed him up, cupping his cheek. “You could never do that. Ever. _Look at me_.”

Reluctantly, Alexander did so, and time shifted. They were back to fourteen and fifteen, when Hephaistion’s kindness had taught a prince that he might just be good enough for something, or some _one_.

“I love you past sense,” Hephaistion went on. “Nothing can change that. _Nothing_. I told you that years ago. I’m just trying to understand. The idea of _my king_ —and you _are_ that—on his knees in front of me, sucking my cock is … off-putting. Yet the idea of _my love_ kissing me all over … that’s different, even if I’d never have phrased it that way. Let me wrap my mind around it. Can we start slow, _agapete_?”

Relief poured over Alexander like the big falls at Edessa. He wrapped arms around Hephaistion, who hugged back tightly. Only Hephaistion would ever see this side of him, the scared side, the weak side, because only Hephaistion would never use it against him. Sometimes a king needed to be held, just as sometimes he needed to be fucked. He needed to _let go_ , and it was the most terrifying thing in his life, ripping him open to bare his beating heart.

They lay back on soft wool, using only hands at first. Hephaistion clearly had no intention of being pliant this time. Their erections, which had disappeared with the onslaught of upset and fear, returned, yet the rolling tsunami of emotion had worn them out a little. The weight in Alexander’s dick was pleasant, not driving

Finally, he rolled Hephaistion onto his back to kiss his stomach and thighs, licking sometimes. Rising on his knees, he pondered how to proceed, at a pragmatic level. He could straddle his friend, head down, but that would put his own junk in Hephaistion’s face, even though he was shorter. Hephaistion watched from dark eyes, making no move either to help or stop him, and Alexander suspected he was still of mixed mind about this. By contrast, with Hephaistion’s acceptance, Alexander had become only that much more determined.

He decided to lean over from the side and blow down Hephaistion’s length again. Hephaistion’s whole body was tense. Then he pressed his lips to Hephaistion’s shaft before running the tip of his tongue, then the flat of it, up and down thin skin, hot with blood. The big vein on the underside twitched and Hephaistion seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. Alexander looked up at him. His eyes were squeezed shut, mouth open, chin lifted. Sitting back, Alexander picked up one of his hands to lace their fingers. Hephaistion squeezed the hand and let out his breath. His eyes opened. “All right?” Alexander asked him.

“Wow. It’s like nothing…” he trailed off, apparently out of words.

That was all the encouragement Alexander had needed. Leaning over again, he repeated what he’d done, but kept it up, finally dragging the flat of his tongue over the shiny glans.

Precum didn’t taste like cherry juice. It tasted more like seawater, salty and bright, not terribly pleasant. He suppressed surprise, getting just the tip of his tongue under the foreskin to swirl it around the head edge, then into the crease on the underside where it flared, teasing back and forth. He heard a quiet, almost startled, “Oh,” in response. Opening his mouth, he took in his friend’s cock, but there was no way the whole length would fit without gagging him. Hephaistion gasped.  It was the sexiest sound Alexander had ever heard. Their fingers were still intertwined and he squeezed. Hephaistion squeezed back.

He moved his head up and down a bit until abruptly, Hephaistion pulled him away.

“What?”

“Your teeth feel weird. And it’s very intense. Almost too much. But not intense enough, too.”

“What do you mean?” He wanted this to be amazing.

“I need more pressure?”

That, Alexander understood, and returned to his task, using his hand for a moment before putting his mouth back. He alternated between licking and going down on Hephaistion, letting his hand cover the lower shaft that he couldn’t get in his mouth. He still wasn’t sure how to avoid the teeth but tried curling his lips over them a little. Yet past the initial wonder, it became oddly mechanical, like trying to park a supply wagon—or perhaps a siege engine, given Hephaistion’s size. A little slobbery and graceless and his jaw was starting to cramp. Hephaistion was giving him no help, either, having gone as silent as a stone. His grip on Alexander’s hand felt like a vise, but other than that, Alexander had no idea if he was enjoying this. The king tried to do what he might like himself, but he and Hephaistion had different preferences in other ways; he could be doing something wrong here. At one point, he had to pause to spit out a pubic hair. “Talk to me,” he said, replacing his mouth with his hand. “I have absolutely no idea what feels best to you.”

“I’m trying not to moan like an idiot. Or move and choke you. Or spill all over your face.”

Alexander laughed, hand still moving. “What’s working?”

“Hand and mouth together. That feels … fucking divine. And when you lick all over the head— _Oh, gods_!” He cut off abruptly as Alexander bent to do just that. “I want to move, but I’m afraid to.”

Alexander took his mouth away again. “Try a little. I’ll stop you if I can’t take it. It might be easier on my neck.”

“That does look awkward.”

“Now you know why I wanted to do this from the floor, not on the bed.”

“I can’t have you kneeling in front of me, Alekos. I just…I can’t.”

“All right; I get it. But make noise. I like hearing you.” Alexander took him back in but let Hephaistion rock gently instead of going up and down. It _was_ easier, and he tried curling his tongue, rubbing it over soft-soft flesh. Both Hephaistion’s hands were in his hair, long fingers wrapping the curls around them. It no longer felt mechanical because Hephaistion had stopped trying to be quiet, and the sounds were working them both up: panting, or gasping, or moaning, or whispering, “ _Zoi mou, zoi mou, zoi mou_ ”—my life—over and over. Alexander lifted his gaze to find him watching, and the eye contact was an arrow straight through him. He grabbed his own swollen dick to pump it. At this rate, he wasn’t sure which of them would spill first.

He flicked his tongue once more over the indentation on the underside where he knew it most sensitive. Hephaistion’s torso curled, shoulders off the wool. Alexander took him as deep as possible, then _hummed_. “Oh, holy fucking shiiiiit,” Hephaistion moaned. Pulling back, Alexander laughed.

“Good?”

“Do that again.”

Alexander obeyed, then returned to licking, hand speeding up on both their shafts. Hephaistion’s was throbbing rigid, his thighs tense, feet flexing, hands gripping the fleece now, pulling at it. He wasn’t going to last much longer. Idly, Alexander wondered if his seed would taste salty, too? Could he swallow it? He released his own cock to reach up and tease Hephaistion’s nipple, which won a shout, then he had to let go of Hephaistion’s cock to hold down his hip and avoid being choked. His friend was virtually incoherent at this point.

Abruptly, his head was being pulled away. “I need more,” Hephaistion explained. “I need to feel your whole body.” Hauling Alexander up beside him, he rolled on top. Understanding, Alexander opened his thighs to take Hephaistion’s cock between, then squeezed rhythmically as Hephaistion thrust hard and fast, his fingers digging into Hephaistion’s hips, urging him on. Having Hephaistion in his mouth had been exciting for being new, but he’d also had to do a lot of thinking about the logistics. This was old and familiar and he could stop thinking, just feel, meeting his friend’s fervor with his own. He wasn’t sure if Hephaistion would kiss him, given where his mouth had just been, but he did. Tongues tangled and sawed, distracted and sloppy.

Abruptly, Hephaistion spilled with a yell that could probably be heard in nearby tents, and hopefully wouldn’t bring the Somatophalakes crashing in on them. It went on for several beats, almost ululating. Then he collapsed atop a grinning Alexander. “Not done,” Alexander muttered in his ear. Rolling sideways, Hephaistion used hands until Alexander spilled too, just as intense if not as noisily.

After, they both just lay there, trying to remember how to breathe. “We haven’t done that in ages.”

“We’ve never done that. Or we do it all the time. Depending on what ‘that’ you meant.”

“I meant have sex twice in one day. I guess we’re getting old.”

“Ah.” Hephaistion’s voice sounded thick and lazy. “ _You’re_ getting old. I could probably manage twice in one day a little more often.”

Alexander snorted. “You’re as horny as a bull when the cows are in season.”

They fell silent. With the sex flush passing, the room felt cold. Lamps still burned, but a few had run out of oil and gone dark. “Let’s clean up and get under the covers.”

They did, making use of the chamber pot as well, before snuffing most of the lamps and crawling back into the big bed to snuggle, Hephaistion’s head on Alexander’s shoulder. “So? Was that all right?” Alexander asked finally, one finger tracing Hephaistion’s beard.

“Yes.” Hephaistion tilted his chin up. Light from the sole lamp left burning glittered on his long nose and cheekbone. “It wasn’t what I expected. I was afraid it would humiliate you, but you were in charge the whole time.”

“I’m the commander.”

Hephaistion chuckled. “Yes, _Basiliskos_.” Little king.

“No, that’s the little king.” Alexander gestured vaguely towards his groin. “And the little king is rather tired now, too.”

“You want me to start calling it that? Some men do name theirs.”

“Gods, no!” Smiling, Alexander kissed Hephaistion’s crown amid the curls. “We have to get up early. Let’s sleep.” He let Hephaistion go and rolled away. Sleeping in each other’s arms might sound romantic but reality was another matter. It was nice to have Hephaistion near for body heat, but otherwise, he didn’t like being constricted, and Hephaistion preferred to sleep on his stomach anyway.

Once they’d settled down, Alexander listened to his friend’s breathing and could tell when he drifted off. Alexander skirted sleep’s edge, replaying tonight’s events in his mind. He hoped they didn’t regret it in the morning, or turn awkward with each other. Alexander didn’t feel ashamed, even though he should. But what they’d done was nothing like the images he’d seen on pottery. It hadn’t been hard or ugly or brutal. He let his hand slide over the linen sheets to just brush the edge of Hephaistion’s skin. The other man murmured, aware of the touch even in his sleep. They were so very attuned to each other, maybe even more so now.

He’d held his lover in his _mouth_. There was nothing more intimate, at least to his thinking. He hoped Hephaistion would do the same for him eventually. He wanted to feel that, to be completely vulnerable like that. Loved like that. But he’d let Hephaistion decide. He wouldn’t ask. This wasn’t something to be requested, only given.

He’d won a lot of treasures while in Asia, and he fully intended to win more. But the greatest treasure, he’d brought with him.

“ _S’agapo_ ,” he whispered into the dimness.

I love you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bit about penis size is completely true. In ancient Greece, having a small penis was admired. I thought it might be funny to have somebody worried about being too BIG. And yeah, guys do check each other out, even if they pretend they don’t. In ancient Greece, I’d hate to be the guy “hung like a stallion” in the gym where everybody but the trainers are naked.
> 
> The described depiction of oral (and anal) rape of a prostitute on a symposial cup is real. It’s in the Louvre and it’s pretty disturbing, whether you’re a man or a woman. Oral sex is never shown with men taking, only slave women. For a king to voluntarily perform it for anyone would be an utter rejection of Greek norms—completely off the rails. I wanted to turn that inside out.
> 
> For background on Hephaistion, and the army, I’ve used Heckel and Reames. No way in hell was Hephaistion a general this early, although he probably was a rich-boy officer. I do follow Reames, not Heckel, in giving him a brain. I don’t think he was a sycophant or yes-man.
> 
> I put in some Greek because it’s easy for the Greek-American, but tried to keep it down and translate it. Most of the spellings are Greek, not Latin, except a few really common ones. The most usual nickname for Alexander (Alexandros) in Greece today is Alekos. _Zoi mou_ (my life) is a common endearment, as is _agapete_ (Love), and -aki is the usual way to make a diminutive for a man, hence Phaistonaki. Hephaistion isn’t a name anybody still uses, so it’s hard to guess what his nickname would have been.
> 
> I wound up writing two stories that follow-up on this, although with a little more plot, called "Facing Reality" and "Making Amends." You can find them on my profile.


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